


Testing, Testing, 123

by EggplantSalad



Series: Condomless in the Creek [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Boyfriends, Condoms, Light Angst, M/M, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Unsafe Sex, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggplantSalad/pseuds/EggplantSalad
Summary: Trust doesn't come easily to David, but with Patrick, he thinks he's finally learning. Then an accident puts that trust to the test.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Condomless in the Creek [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983950
Comments: 72
Kudos: 277





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Condomless in the Creek collaborative fic series. Each fic is an alternate take on David and Patrick discussing their condom usage, or lack thereof. The fics in the series do not exist in the same timeline and are not necessarily consistent with each other.

The third time Patrick clears his throat, David finally snaps.

“Oh my god, _what?_ ” David says, spinning around to where Patrick is leaned against the counter instead of doing his share of the closing chores. 

“What do you mean, what?” Patrick looks away and recrosses his arms. He would never have made it in organized crime.

“I mean, you’ve been doing this bizarre faux-casual _lean_ over and over for the past ten minutes and whatever it is, just spit it out already.”

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing big.” Patrick immediately makes a liar of himself by increasing the angle of his casual lean. “I was just wondering if I could take the afternoon off tomorrow. Got some stuff to do.”

Stuff. _Stuff?_

Every alarm bell in David’s head starts braying, and all the ones in his stomach join in for good measure. 

Tomorrow is Friday afternoon, one of their busiest days, and Patrick knows that, so he’d only ask if it was important. What could be so important? 

_Maybe Patrick needs to get ready for a date_ , the ugly part of his brain whispers. They’ve kissed quite a lot in the week since David’s birthday, but they’ve never talked about labels. Maybe they’re friends with (mostly theoretical) benefits. Maybe this is just a fling, something to help Patrick get his toes—and certain other body parts—wet while he gets his bearings. Maybe now that he’s kissed a man and seen what it’s like, he wants more. More than David.

David still hasn’t answered Patrick, and that’s going to start looking deeply weird in a few seconds. _Mouth, make words_. 

“Oh? Um. Friday’s pretty…pretty busy for us. Is it something that can wait?” David says, reorganizing the massage oil again. _Is it someone who can wait?_

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just, I have an appointment and it was kind of hard to get in last-minute. I can come in afterward and help with inventory,” Patrick’s eyes flick around nervously, like a house fly that lands everywhere but on David. 

Okay, so maybe not a date, not if he’s offering to come back that evening. David’s brain really ought to take the win, but instead it whispers: _Maybe he just wants some space. Maybe you’re too much. You spent half an hour this morning ranting about how the printers sent ecru labels instead of ivory and nobody wants to deal with that. With you. Maybe he has a job interview. Maybe it’s a hook-up._

“Ooh, got a hot date?” David makes himself say, and it’s lighthearted; Patrick should be smiling. Patrick is not smiling.

“A hot…what? With someone else?” Patrick says, and this is more than frowning; Patrick looks shocked and hurt, and David realizes he’s fucked up. No matter what he does, he fucks it up. 

David leans back against the display table across from the cash register, and he can’t totally parse that look on Patrick’s face but it’s terrible, so he looks down and twists his rings, one full turn each. “I mean, you could, if you wanted to. Lots of guys would want to date you.”

Patrick’s frown melts into something unmoored. “Is that…do you want me to go on a date with some other guy?”

David wants to say no so badly. He wants to fill the world with _no_ and _please don’t_ , but he shrugs instead and says “I don’t want to hold you back or anything, if you were wanting to get out there and see what the big gay world has to offer. I mean, kissing you has been really” — life-transforming — “fun, but we haven’t talked about being exclusive or anything, and that’s — that’s fine, whatever you want is fine, just as long as you’re honest with me and, and use protection. Just please tell me, okay? It’s just really important that we, that we communicate if you’re seeing someone else.” David’s toes are almost touching Patrick’s: white Chuck Taylors nearly kissing the sensible brown oxfords.

And Patrick hasn’t said one word during David’s whole rambling speech, so David finally looks up and Patrick isn’t frowning anymore; he’s looking at David with his stupid understanding eyes and his stupid sweet mouth quirked up in a little smile, and David can’t look him in the eyes anymore because that’s how Patrick gets in, that’s how Patrick sees what he’s thinking, and he can’t, he needs Patrick to know he has choices.

So David looks back down at his rings and starts to twist them again, but then he can’t because Patrick is hugging him, arms pulling him close so that David’s hands are trapped between them, a double fist in his stomach that feels like the perfect echo of his anxiety.

Patrick waits until David wraps his hands around his shoulders to start talking. “You’re right, David, communication is important in a relationship.” And David’s stomach tries, it really does, not to flip over the word _relationship,_ but it’s no use, and his eyes jolt up to Patrick’s again.

“And, in the spirit of healthy communication, I feel like I should tell you that I’m not going on a date with another guy.”

David can’t think of any way to make his next words not sound pathetic, but he has to know. “You’re not?”

Patrick shakes his head firmly. “No.”

Then David sees the ugly thought cross Patrick’s mind, sees him shrink down and David hates it, he knows that feeling, he wants to tell Patrick to never listen to it, because it sounds like Sebastien and he always, always lies with the thing you’re most afraid of. 

“David, do you want me to date other guys? I mean, I don’t want to hold _you_ back here. Just because you’re the first guy I’ve ever kissed, you don’t have to, to humor me. If you’re trying to give me a hint here, if you want to keep things casual, it’s not fair for me to…cling to you or whatever.” 

And Patrick sounds so small in that moment that David would hug him if he weren’t already doing it. So he just gives Patrick an extra squeeze and decides to let himself say one vulnerable thing. Just the one. He can do that. “I kind of like the clinging,” David says, but it still makes him itch, so he chickens out a little and leers Patrick playfully. “Especially when it’s up against a wall.” 

The blush blooms across Patrick’s cheeks in an instant, and David knows he’s remembering how they had frantically kissed before the store opened that morning, how Patrick had ground his hips against David’s for the first time, how David had felt the thick bar of Patrick’s cock for just a few dizzying, blessed seconds before Patrick had wrenched himself away and asked for a breather. 

“I’m a big fan of that kind of clinging too,” Patrick says, still blushing. “And…I don’t want to do that with anyone else. I don’t want to date anyone else. Just—just you.” 

David doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Patrick still looks terribly unsure, and that’s a new feeling for David too, being in a relationship where the ability to hurt feelings isn’t a one-way street.

“I don’t want to date anyone else either,” David says, and Patrick’s smile is too much, he knows too much, but for once David folds his lips over the smart-ass comment that could make this mean less than it does, because he kind of wants this to mean something. He wants to think it could mean something, maybe someday.

So David just shrugs a little and tucks a smile into the corner of his mouth and the moment sits sparkling between them like an unwrapped gift. They’re both grinning inanely at each other and David should feel stupid for acting like this just because a cute boy wants to, what, _go steady_ with him? But he couldn’t stop smiling if frowns went for fifty bucks a pop because Patrick said he just wanted to date David. Just him.

Then Patrick blushes a little more—it never really went away—and his eyes turn more serious. “Um, speaking of communication and safety and…all that…” Patrick trails off and looks down. David rubs his shoulders supportively. Patrick’s eyes make it back up to David’s mouth, but that’s as far as his bravery takes him before he starts speaking again.

“I know I asked if we could go slow, and I still want that, but at some point soon I’m hoping to…not go slow,” he tells David’s chin. “So. I haven’t been tested in a while and I wanted to—to go do that. Because I don’t want you to worry.”

Patrick’s eyes finally make it back up to lock with David’s, and he looks so resolute that David has to remind himself that Patrick would say this to anyone. He would say this to Jake if they were…dating. It’s not because he cares about David so especially. It’s just who Patrick is.

But that means something too, that Patrick is the kind of person who just goes around caring about people like it costs nothing, that someone like him thinks David is worth spending all day with and kissing and _worrying about_.

David squeezes his shoulders and whispers, “Thank you.”

But Patrick is still carbonated with all those nerves so he adds: “I mean, not that I think there’s anything for you to worry about. I’ve been with like, four girls ever, and I was always safe. But I just...I just want to be sure.”

David doesn’t know how to name the feeling swelling up in his chest. It’s wholesome and warm on the edges and hot in the middle like bread just out of the oven. Patrick, who has slept with four girls, worries about giving David something. David, who literally revenge-fucked his ex a few months ago, and Patrick knows it. David, who has been with hundreds of partners. And Patrick still wants to be exclusive with him and keep _him_ safe.

David should push Patrick away for his own good, but he’s not virtuous enough. He’s greedy for Patrick, for the clean, compact lines of his body, for his kind heart and rude mouth, for the little lost noises Patrick makes when David kisses him behind the ear. _I’m the first one to make him feel like that_. 

David realizes he’s let the silence spin out a bit and Patrick still looks nervous, like he’s said or assumed too much, and David can’t bear that. “I appreciate that,” he says, and when did his voice get so raspy? “Um, and in the spirit of healthy communication and all that, I got tested a few weeks ago, after…all that…and I’m…good.” And now David’s the one who can’t look Patrick in the eye because what the fuck is wrong with him, reminding Patrick how damaged he is?

But then Patrick tips his chin up and kisses him softly and murmurs “okay” against his lips. And David still can’t bear it, because Patrick can’t just go around trusting people like that in a world where people like David and Sebastien live. So he pulls away from Patrick and fumbles for his phone. 

“Here, here’s the email, I’ll show you. You’re supposed to always show your partner, even if they don’t ask, because maybe they’re too uncomfortable to ask and it’s not fair to make them ask or feel bad about asking, so you should always just show them no matter what.” And he pulls up the email and gives his phone to Patrick like a valentine, like a burnt offering.

Patrick gives it a cursory glance, then hands it back and loops his arms back around David’s waist. “Thank you for showing me that, but just to be clear, I trust you.”

David’s breath stalls out even as his stomach ices over, because he _wants—_ but he can’t—Patrick _can’t—_ has he learned _nothing?_

David steps back and waves his hands, letting them shake out the fizzing energy the word “trust” had activated. “I’m glad you trust me, Patrick, I really am, but you can’t just go around trusting people like that.”

Patrick frowns. “I don’t just randomly trust people, David. I know you’re not going to lie to me or cheat.”

David groans because, fuck, he really did not want to have this conversation. He squeezes Patrick’s arms and bites his lip, trying to think of a way to say the next part that doesn’t make him sound like a stupid, desperate slut.

But there really isn’t a way, and he wants— _needs_ Patrick to get this, even if it means a quicker road to Patrick dumping him. He feels a certain responsibility to make sure Patrick understands, for the next guy, and the one after that, even if it makes David’s stomach feel like it’s full of stones when he thinks about the next guy.

“Some people you don’t trust because they could lie. But some people you don’t trust because they have bad judgment.” Patrick’s brow knots and he starts to say something, but David stills him with two fingers over his lips. He needs to get this out.

“The only time I ever let someone fuck me without a condom was Sebastien— _not_ last month,” he says softly. “It was when I was dating him, before. We were together for four months, and he said we were exclusive, and I—I trusted him, I know I shouldn’t have, but he knew all the right things to say.”

David’s eyes feel weighed down by gravity; they keep wanting to look down at Patrick’s chin, or his feet, or anywhere else except his too-compassionate eyes. But he makes himself look back up anyway, because Patrick needs to understand. “But. Um. It turned out that he was fucking other people for at least a month, and I didn’t know until I walked in on him having a threesome in my bed.”

David closes his eyes because he doesn’t want to see how Patrick reacts, doesn’t want to see that compassion morph into disgust. He also closes his eyes because what he just said isn’t the worst part. It isn’t even the worst part that Sebastien had waved him in grandly and told him to _come join the fun,_ and he had, had gotten on his knees on autopilot. There were so many reasons why: because the other two people were influential artists and he didn’t want to make a scene; because he didn’t want to look limited by the constraints of the _heteronormative bourgeoisie,_ which Sebastien frequently railed against; but mostly because he didn’t know what was happening or how to react, but he knew he was good at sucking cock, so that’s what he had done. 

The worst part wasn’t even the obsessive STI testing over the next three months or the emergency antiretrovirals the family doctor had called in for him, just in case. 

“Christ, what an asshole. I’m so glad you dumped him,” Patrick breathes. David winces, because okay, now Patrick gets to hear the worst part. He turns his face into Patrick’s neck because he doesn’t want to see, and because, pitiful as it is, he wants to borrow a bit of comfort and strength from Patrick, even if what he says destroys that dynamic.

“I. Um. Didn’t dump him,” David says, and because his face is buried in Patrick’s shoulder, he feels the instant where Patrick tenses, his sharp inhale. But Patrick doesn’t let go, doesn’t shove David away in disgust. After that brief pause, he deliberately hugs David a little tighter, moving his hands in soothing arcs across David’s back.

“Okay,” he whispers. He so plainly wants to make sure that David doesn’t feel judged, and David can’t stand it. He _should_ be judged. This isn’t _Pretty Woman,_ and David isn’t some hooker with a heart of gold. He’s not _nice_ and he’s not _good_. He’s just a fucked up, used up, washed up party boy who had a decent idea one time for a store. Patrick needs to know what he’s getting into, because what he’s seeing when he looks at David isn’t what David feels like inside and it’s enough to make his skin itch and his chest ache. 

“I stayed with him for another week after that,” David says, and for all his brain is telling him to shock Patrick, to disgust him, some part of David hasn’t gotten the memo, because he can barely hear his own voice, guttering like a candle. 

“I stayed with him and I had sex with him twice. I even initiated once, to show him I wasn’t mad at him for—for fucking strangers in my bed. But he wasn’t happy because I made him use a condom, and I was getting sick to my stomach a lot from the—from the PEP, so one night he said that, that our lives were diverging and it was important to be brave, to be honest when the universe was leading us onto different paths. And I said okay, and then I still spent the night at his place anyway because I was so fucking stupid, and the next morning when I woke up, he was gone, but he had taken all the stuff I had left around his place and put it in a cardboard box by the door. He even left a sticky note on it that told me to be free of him and go interrogate my life on my own road.”

There’s silence for a few heart-stopping seconds, and David feels torn in half, hoping that Patrick won’t let go, hoping that Patrick has gotten the message and will stop trying to see something worth wanting in the blackened ruin of David’s past. Finally, Patrick speaks.

“Go interrogate your life on your own road, huh? That’s a pretty fancy way of saying he wanted to fuck around bareback without consequences,” Patrick says tightly, and he’s still holding onto David. He’s still holding on.

David pulls back and looks Patrick square in the face, because Patrick still doesn’t get it. “Yes, he’s an asshole, I know. The point is that I knew he was an asshole and I stayed with him, and let him fuck me, and then after he dumped me I cried for months even while I was scared out of my mind and getting weekly HIV tests. Sometimes people have really, um. Really bad judgment, so you should always ask to see people’s test results.”

“Okay,” says Patrick, and it’s so soft and simple that David almost can’t take it, but he doesn’t have the energy to keep promoting his own iniquity, so he just sighs and rubs his hands over his eyes. 

“Yes, take the afternoon off tomorrow. I’ve got it covered. And don’t worry about the inventory. I can handle it.”

“You don’t have to do all that. It won’t take too long.” He squeezes David’s arms and drops a casual kiss on his cheek; the kind of kiss that’s such a big deal because it isn’t a big deal, because there’s a million more where that came from. “I’ll grab us some pizza from that one place you like, and then I’ll come back, okay? I’m coming back.” 

And David has to keep a tight rein on his face, because he knows Patrick means more than inventory.


	2. Chapter 2

It turns out David has a boyfriend.

He’s tidying up the front of the store, putting the wine and chairs away while Patrick puts the cash in the safe, and because he’s alone, he lets himself grin like an idiot. David has a _boyfriend._

It’s not that it’s so unexpected. They haven’t exactly dug into each other’s romantic histories, barring that one uncomfortable conversation about Sebastien, but something about Patrick Brewer says he’s the relationship type of guy.

But David was surprised to find out that he’s the relationship type of guy too. Oh, he’d convinced himself that he wasn’t, that he _excelled as a solo artist,_ but it was bullshit. Nobody who loves romcoms that much hates romance; he just never thought anyone worthy of it would want him. 

He finds Patrick in the back, sliding his laptop into his messenger bag with the exact same idiotic grin on his face. It’s comforting, honestly, that they can be idiots together about this.

Patrick winds his arms around David’s waist, still with that slightly dazed expression like all his Christmases had just come at once. “So, does my boyfriend want to come back to my place?” He brushes a lingering kiss to the corner of David’s mouth. “Ray’s at a conference.” A kiss to the other corner of David’s mouth. “We’d have the place all to ourselves.”

“Mmm, if my boyfriend wants some privacy, I think we can make that happen,” says David, thrilling at the taste of the word. 

Patrick looks like he wants to tackle David to the floor right there in the office, but instead nods sharply and steps back to grab his messenger bag. And a toilet plunger.

David barks out a laugh. “Oh, so when you said that we sold two plungers because we put them up front, you really meant you and Stevie bought plungers just to mess with me.”

“That is correct,” Patrick says unblushingly.

David puts his nose in the air. “So what I’m hearing is that I was basically right about the plungers.”

“Well, not one hundred percent,” Patrick says. “Someone else really did buy the toilet brush.”

He takes David’s hand and leads him to the front of the store, and David shivers a little. He can do at least seventeen things with his tongue that make Patrick go non-verbal, but all Patrick has to do is hold David’s hand.

Ten minutes later, Patrick does one better, pinning David against his bedroom door while sucking hot kisses along his jaw.

“...What?” David says. It’s sort of hard to think when Patrick is rubbing his dick through his jeans.

Patrick chuckles against David’s collarbone. “I said, how does my boyfriend want it tonight?” David is disgusted with himself, at how he keeps going weak in the knees at the word _boyfriend,_ but he can’t help himself. He loves feeling wanted, claimed. 

“I want...I want you inside me, if that’s okay.” If Patrick’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. They only started having anal sex a few weeks ago, and David hasn’t bottomed much. Partly because Patrick loves bottoming so much, but partly because David has a few hang-ups— _thanks Sebastien_ —about letting anyone in his ass. But he trusts Patrick. He wants to let Patrick in every way he can think of.

“Well, if my boyfriend wants my cock in his ass, that’s just what he’ll get.” Patrick shoots David a filthy little smile, and David loves that Patrick is learning to trust him too. He used to be so terrible at dirty talk, always wincing like he thought David would laugh at him. But David kept building him up and telling him how sexy he is, how much he likes it when Patrick talks to him, and now Patrick thinks nothing of telling David to fuck him harder, or get his dick out.

By the time David’s out of the shower, Patrick has the duvet stripped off and is sprawled naked on the bed, scrolling absently on his phone. He puts the phone on the nightstand as David drops the towel and crawls onto the mattress, swinging a leg over Patrick to straddle him. 

“Hey, handsome,” he says softly. Patrick looks at him helplessly and smiles a little, shakes his head like all the words he wants to say are bottlenecking in his throat. Then he huffs out a laugh and pulls David down into a passionate kiss, and they’re off.

They kiss for long minutes, hands roaming all over each other, cocks grinding together, and it’s hot and hungry and perfect. Just when David thinks he’s going to have to resort to begging, Patrick’s fingers dip down to David’s entrance.

“Patrick, _please,_ get me ready,” David gasps, pushing his ass back against Patrick’s hand.

“Yeah, yep, getting—getting on that,” Patrick breathes. He gropes for the lube and slicks up his fingers as David shuffles up a bit to give him better access. Then Patrick’s mouthing mindlessly at David’s nipples as he circles David’s rim and pushes a finger in. By the time Patrick has three fingers in, David’s moaning and fucking himself back on Patrick’s thick fingers. 

“Can’t wait to get my dick in you,” Patrick rumbles against his chest. “Can’t wait to fuck my boyfriend. Perfect fucking ass, like it was made for me.” His fingers curve like apostrophes inside David, possessive.

“God, yeah. Want that,” David pants. “Come on, I’m ready.” 

Patrick rolls on the condom, then urges David back while he sits up, stuffing a pillow between his back and the cold brass bars. “Okay like this?” he asks. They haven’t done this position before, and doubt shades his voice. 

David hears the questions he’s not asking: not just whether the position is comfortable, but also whether it’s normal, whether men fuck this way. So confident in every area of his life but this one, and David wants to hug him almost as much as he wants to fuck him. He does the next-best thing and straddles Patrick’s legs again, linking his hands loosely behind his boyfriend’s neck. “ _Very_ okay like this,” he smirks, and Patrick’s shoulders slump a little in relief.

Then David kneels up and reaches behind himself for Patrick’s cock, sinking down slowly. They both sigh when David’s fully seated, and then they really are kind of hugging for a minute while they fit themselves together. David wraps his legs around Patrick, trying to position his aching cock so it rubs against Patrick’s stomach. Patrick opens his knees and lets David drop down, curling his legs around David’s ass. 

It’s an incredibly intimate position, face to face and pressed together so tightly, and David can feel the whole mood shifting. Patrick can’t thrust much this way, but he smoothes one big, callused hand down David’s back and grips his ass, and then they’re rocking together, every slow stroke like the swell of a breath. 

Patrick’s looking into David’s eyes, more naked than his body, and David knows what he sees in those eyes, but it’s blinding, so he pulls Patrick into a kiss, hands roving his sturdy, powerful body.

David is an incredibly expressive person, hair and clothes and eyebrows and posture, the flip of his silver-ringed hands. He can think of a hundred novel ways to tell Alexis to drop dead, but his mouth doesn’t know how to tell Patrick what it means to have him here, rocking into him, caring about him, teasing him, working with him, being his _boyfriend._ So he tries to show Patrick with his body instead, because it’s the only vocabulary he has for this.

But even that language is different tonight. Their sex has been new and trembling, desperate and horny, rough and dirty, playful and fun, but it’s never been like this: gentle and infinite, with deep, drugging kisses and long, tender looks.

Patrick is making love to him.

David gasps into Patrick’s mouth with the realization, and Patrick pulls back. 

“Okay?” he asks, cupping David’s face in his hands. Without warning, David remembers Sebastien cupping his face that way at the motel, the arrogant smirk as he’d called David _healthy,_ as he’d fucked David into the mattress later that night. And suddenly David can’t stand looking at Patrick.

“Yeah, just a leg cramp,” he says, dismounting. He lays on his stomach and wraps his arms around the pillow, spreading his legs a little. “Can we—like this?” he says, looking up at Patrick, hoping he hasn’t killed the mood.

But Patrick is already kneeling between David’s legs, applying a little more lube and giving David’s ass cheek a playful smack before pushing back in. The fragile mood from before is gone, popped like a soap bubble, but this is good too. Every time with Patrick is good.

Patrick picks up the pace, and David gets his knees under him, moaning and pushing back. Patrick’s grabbing his hips hard enough to leave bruises now, thrusting hard and nailing his prostate with every stroke.

“Jesus, David, holy _shit,_ feels so good, you feel so fucking _good,_ ” Patrick says. “I’m so close.”

David feels the orgasm starting to gather at the base of his spine but he needs more. He reaches for his cock so they can come together, but Patrick knocks his hand away and starts stroking him without slowing his relentless pace. He’s bowed over David’s back now, panting as he says, “Come on, that’s right, come for me sweetheart, I want you to come on your boyfriend’s cock.”

David explodes. He’s distantly aware that he’s shouting, but he could care less. Patrick manages one more almighty thrust before he’s coming into the condom. Then, as they’re shuddering through their orgasms, David feels it: a tiny snap, deep inside him.

They both go very still.

“David, was that—I think the condom just broke,” Patrick says. “Hold on, I’m pulling out.” He does and sits back on his heels. David rolls over and sits up, and then they’re both looking at it: the condom has a huge split down the middle, and there’s come everywhere, inside and outside of it, all over Patrick’s deflating cock.

Patrick looks up at David helplessly. “I’m so sorry, David, I didn’t know, I should have...” 

But David shakes his head slowly. “You couldn’t have known.” A curious sort of calm seems to have descended over him.

Patrick rests a hand on David’s knee. “Are you okay? Do you want a, a washcloth? Do you want to get tested again? What can I do?” Patrick’s really flailing here, and David appreciates his concern, but he’s…

He’s fine. He blinks, examines the feeling more closely, but it’s still true.

“I’m okay,” he says, squeezing Patrick’s hand.

Patrick looks skeptical, but David shrugs. “Truly, I’m...I’m fine. I mean, we should probably switch brands, but. We both got tested, we’re monogamous, and...I trust you.”

Patrick’s shoulders sag at that, and he kisses David fiercely, then hugs him just as hard. “Thank you,” he says raggedly into David’s ear. Because Patrick knows what David’s trust means, what it costs.

David buries his face in Patrick’s neck, overwhelmed.

They're both absolutely filthy and they need to clean up in the worst way, but just then, just for a minute, he lets himself stay still and feel safe in Patrick’s arms. Because he is.


End file.
